Chapter 24: The Faith of Cyberpunk Part 1

Amon was a very rational person.

It was a natural trait as a veteran player.

In speedruns or hardcore modes, a single mistake could send you back to the beginning.

That’s why, no matter how many tricks or bug exploits a veteran might know, if the success rate didn’t exceed 80 percent, they wouldn’t attempt it in hardcore mode.

He would save at that section in easy mode and practice repeatedly until the success rate exceeded 80 percent, only then would he use the strategy.

This method of his also applied to the first playthrough of new series.

He wasn’t fond of failure.

Before the vanguard strategies came out, rather than defeating bosses with numerous attempts and skill, he preferred overwhelming them with sheer level advantage.

He would always enter at least ten levels above the boss’s recommended level, and he wouldn’t even tilt his head at the final boss until he had assembled the endgame set.

This caution only grew after the game became reality.

There were no saves, no revives, and no strategies.

It was only natural.

The reason he avoided destroying the Hexen Group overnight, even though he could, was because his success rate wasn’t 100 percent.

It was only after the Hexen Group crossed the line and found themselves in a desperate position that he took the risk.

Normally, he would never storm into a megacorp without knowing the strategy or being fully prepared for the challenge.

He only acted because there was a relatively high success rate using the nuclear bomb the Hexen Group had prepared, otherwise, he would never engage in a fight where the odds were less than 50 percent.

Moreover, Amon was well aware of one thing.

He knew just how foolish it would be to challenge the dungeon boss who easily subdued the guards he couldn’t defeat.

He knew how stupid it would be to fight without knowing the strategy or having fully developed skills.

After all, it was a dungeon boss.

It wouldn’t run away, even if he didn’t defeat it immediately.

The safest and most ideal solution would be to calmly leave the dungeon, grow stronger, and return.

But.

‘If even the goddess is a coward stuck in the past, are her apostles just running away as well?’

Hearing those words, which should never be spoken, made him change his mind.

‘Who would stand still when their parents are insulted right to their face?’

No matter where you are or in what era, such insults are unforgivable.

After hearing that, Amon’s plan was clear.

He would cut off the enemy’s head and hang it in the square to feed the crows.

This thought dominated his mind.

“The Lord wills it.”

Amid his raging fury, Amon calmly evaluated the battle against the dungeon boss.

‘It’s not certain, but the pattern is probably similar to the final boss of Punk City 1.’

More accurately, it’s likely a weaker version.

The summoning method is the same, and its appearance and manner of speaking are similar.

The number of sacrifices required is smaller, so the pattern might be simpler or weaker.

Something like that.

Of course, he didn’t make any firm conclusions.

He knew that being too sure and encountering a new pattern could result in a quick “game over,” so he kept it in mind as a reference, nothing more.

Amon observed the dungeon boss from behind the cross formed by his dual swords.

‘Don’t get confused.’

He wasn’t a strategist; he was a challenger.

He didn’t know the boss’s patterns, and he only had one chance.

If he were a strategist, he would have charged in immediately, thinking time was too precious to waste.

He would have charged in, noticing the slightest hint in the boss’s fingers or breathing, and responded accordingly.

He would have dodged down to the millimeter and squeezed in the most optimized damage.

But challengers didn’t have that kind of control.

Challengers had to flee in response to the boss’s patterns, strike only when it was safe, and wait for the next pattern.

That’s why Amon waited.

After all, the one feeling impatient would be the dungeon boss, and that arrogant demon would reveal its hand sooner or later.

And sure enough, less than a minute later, the first pattern came out.

When she gestured, Amon immediately rolled to the side.

Crash!

The sound of glass shattering echoed, and a cross-shaped scar was engraved on the spot where Amon had stood.

***

[Phase 1. Marking pattern.]

Amon rolled two more times in place.

As he closed in on the boss, he swung his sword twice.

Ting!

The sword bounced off with a sharp sound.

However, Amon didn’t panic and retreated, waiting for the next pattern.

‘Don’t get greedy.’

No barrier had infinite durability, and time was on Amon’s side.

If he got greedy and took a hit, it would be game over for him.

The boss found it strange that Amon attacked only twice and retreated, but continued the assault nonetheless.

And so, after a few more exchanges, the barrier finally broke, and Amon succeeded in wounding the boss’s palm.

***

[Phase 2]

As soon as he struck the hand, Amon distanced himself.

Sure enough, the demon, enraged by the wound, pulled out a staff and spoke.

“How sorrowful. My wound. So I say, this is truly a trial. Shall I endure it?”

She was speaking elegantly, but the conclusion was simple: ‘I’m hurt, I’m angry, now I’ll fight for real.’

Phase 2 had begun, and she struck the ground with her staff.

In response, golden light poured down from the sky.

It could have been considered a holy scene at first glance.

But Amon knew better than to assume that golden light was sacred.

‘If that were the case, thermite could also be dyed golden.’

You couldn’t trust what you saw.

After all, even robbers could wear police uniforms and use police guns.

The important thing was the core, not the holy effects.

Holy power wasn’t exclusive to the righteous.

Entities, demons, and even villains could wield divine power under the guise of mysticism.

They could certainly make something ‘appear’ holy with effects alone.

A pillar of golden light crashed down where Amon had been.

He dodged, leaving behind a sinister scorched mark.

‘If it had really been sacred light, I wouldn’t have been able to dodge it.’

From that moment on, Phase 2 unfolded in a holy atmosphere.

It was as if the boss was claiming to be a true saint, transforming the boss room into a bright white temple.

Grumbling about being blinded in the middle of the night, Amon swung his sword.

Clang!

The wall that had been camouflaged by the white background shattered.

(Phase 2 is a little different.)

The white wall pattern wasn’t one that the final boss used.

It was more akin to something a mid-boss of her Four Heavenly Kings would employ.

He’d thought the buildup started when the surroundings turned white, and sure enough, that pattern appeared.

‘Well, it’s reality.’

It wasn’t like a game where the boss was limited to predetermined abilities, and there was no reason to think they wouldn’t use certain skills for balance purposes.

Amon himself was using dual swords with techniques meant for a single-sword style, so it wouldn’t be fair to call it cheating.

With those thoughts, Amon dodged the attacks like a dance.

And in between, he carved into the demon’s flesh.

The strange thing was that the demon wasn’t regenerating the wounds Amon inflicted.

At first, Amon moved cautiously, wary of a trap, but after his sword deeply cut the demon’s hamstring and it still didn’t heal, he became convinced.

‘It can’t regenerate.’

Most likely, that was the case.

This was good news for Amon.

At the very least, it was far easier to deal with an enemy that couldn’t regenerate.

Amon calmly continued to increase the number of wounds on the demon’s body.

The demon swung its staff, summoning pillars of light, causing a rain of spears to pour down from the sky, and setting fire to the surroundings with no room to escape.

But when Amon dodged all of these attacks, the demon, in frustration, generated a spear of light at the end of its staff and swung it.

However, since the demon was primarily a magic user, swinging a spear posed no real threat.

It would hurt if it hit, but it was easy enough to avoid.

Amon dodged that as well and swung his sword toward the demon’s neck.

“Argh!!”

“Tsk. Missed.”

Though he aimed for the neck, he ended up cutting both of the demon’s eyes.

It was a critical hit, but it wasn’t enough to finish the job.

The demon howled in agony, pouring black blood from its eyes.

“AAAAHH!!! Why do you take away my light?! It is all I have left, and yet you are so cruel to take it from me! Why?!”

The demon screamed in desperation.

It called for its mother, the goddess.

The blinded demon cried out to the unresponsive goddess and then shifted its anger towards Amon.

“Aaah! Amon! AMON!! Why do you persecute me so?!”

It was a shameless statement.

The demon had provoked him first and was filled with intent to kill, yet now it was pretending to be the victim.

Amon, however, didn’t bother pointing that out.

‘Shamelessness is a basic trait of demons.’

He didn’t take his eyes off the demon.

While he wanted to finish it off by going for the neck, the sight of the dripping black blood made him hesitate.

It wasn’t out of pity.

Rather, the black smoke rising from the blood indicated that it was almost time for the demon to transform.

Amon wasn’t the type to wait for his opponent to transform, but charging in without knowing what it would turn into could easily result in him ending up with his name on a tombstone.

The wait wasn’t long.

The black tears falling from the demon’s eyes covered her lower body.

The sticky black tears gathered and transformed into a long black snake for her lower half.

‘Good thing I waited.’

Thick black liquid dripped from her slime-like lower body.

The liquid corroded everything it touched.

Had Amon recklessly charged in thinking it would be similar to the Antichrist’s final form, he would have been devoured by that liquid.

Her lower body wriggled as she slithered toward Amon.

‘She’s not even trying to hide anymore.’

She had shed her pretense of being holy, signaling the start of Phase 3.

It was a transformation he hadn’t seen before.

But that didn’t mean Amon had any reason to give up.

He had already prepared for the fact that the game and reality wouldn’t be the same.

‘There’s no need to rush the attack.’

Entering Phase 3 meant that the demon was cornered.

There was no need to take unnecessary risks by going on the offensive; it was enough to slowly and defensively wear her down.

The problem was that since he didn’t know the pattern, he couldn’t avoid every attack, meaning he had to parry that monster’s spear.

If someone asked whether his reflexes and strength were up to blocking the spear…

‘Well, I have to.’

If he didn’t, he would die.

Amon calmly readjusted his grip on his sword.

He sheathed one of the dual swords at his waist, focusing on using a single sword as he glared at the demon.

***

[Phase 3 began in earnest.]

The demon swung her spear.

BOOM!

With a sound like the air exploding, Amon was pushed back.

He quickly checked the state of his sword.

He had looted it from the bodyguards under the chairman’s direct command, so he had assumed it was sturdy, and it held up better than expected.

The problem was that his muscles would give out before the sword did.

‘This… really hurts…’

Barely containing the stinging, burning pain, Amon braced himself and blocked the next attack.

Ting!

Once again, his arm went numb.

The only fortunate thing was that, with her eyes gone, the demon’s attacks were large and imprecise, and she wasn’t launching consecutive strikes.

This gave Amon enough time to recover from the damage to his arms.

Frustrated by Amon’s repeated blocks, the demon grabbed the spear with both hands and swung it with all her might.

As if daring him to block that too.

But Amon wasn’t about to oblige, so he jumped or ducked to avoid those attacks.

The fierce exchange continued between the two.

Even while swinging the spear, the demon used magic, but as soon as Amon saw any sign of it, he created distance between them.

With her vision gone, she couldn’t cast magic to hit Amon precisely, so she could only unleash indiscriminate spells across a wide area.

Ironically, this made it harder for Amon to block the magic.

There was no pattern to it, and no prior knowledge to rely on, making it tricky to dodge.

As a result, for the first time, one of her spells hit Amon.

“Ugh!”

A stray laser burned Amon’s side.

The searing pain shot through his spine.

His clothes melted and stuck to the burnt skin underneath.

But he endured the pain silently, receiving the attack without complaint.

Finally, the moment he had been waiting for arrived.

The demon made a bold thrust with the spear.

Amon sidestepped the spear and stomped on it, preventing her from retrieving it.

Surprised by the sudden weight on the spear’s tip, the demon faltered.

In that moment, Amon threw his sword at her.

Thud!

The sword embedded itself in the demon’s forehead.

Though she writhed in pain, she didn’t die, proving she was indeed a demon.

Amon grabbed the spear underfoot and wrenched it from her grasp.

Feeling the sudden lightness in her hands, the demon reached out pathetically, but Amon felt no sympathy for her.

His holy power flowed into the spear.

The spearhead grew much larger than it had when the demon wielded it.

Even though she couldn’t see, the overwhelming amount of holy power she sensed caused the demon to hesitate.

Amon stepped forward.

“Return to hell, demon!”

He slashed upward from below with the spear.

A trail of light was left in the air.

The light extended beyond the demon, reaching the wall behind her.

Hit directly by Amon’s attack, the demon froze in place, a golden line etched across her body.

Amon silently watched her.

Crack.

In the silence, the line of light began to split open the demon’s body, and with a final, desperate wail that cast aside all her dignity, she crumbled into ashes.

Only then did Amon confirm his victory and let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Haa…”

Having twisted his body to defeat the demon, Amon’s first thought wasn’t of accomplishment or superiority.

What came to him first was…

“I really need to work on controlling my temper.”

It was the clarity that comes after a fierce bout of rage.